


His Smell of Death

by thefudge



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: Erotic, F/M, creepiness, mildly graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:04:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abigail dreams of Will and in her dream he finishes what he started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Smell of Death

She steps out of the tub and lands with her feet in the grass.

Abigail blinks, mystified.

Moments ago, she was in her bathroom. She had felt the cool press of ceramic under her hands as she had risen out of the water. She had seen the steam on the mirror.

Now, she is standing, stark naked, in the middle of a meadow. It is sunny, but it is also cold. She feels her flesh stretching as she moves against the soft wind. She has goose bumps all over.

She has nothing to cover herself with, but strangely, it doesn't bother her.

Abigail pulls her hair to one side and walks towards the faraway trees. She can hear the highway, somewhere in the distance. Cars rolling by, people unknown to her. It gives her pleasure, this terrifying sensation of being close to the unknown.

She walks faster, because she can see a body hanging from a branch. It is swinging low, a weight held up against gravity.

Someone else is standing at the foot of the tree, pulling the rope. That rope that goes around the neck, like an old jewel.

Abigail doesn't recognize her father's frozen face as she looks up at the body. Or she does, but doesn't want to let herself know.

Will keeps pulling and pulling, even though Garrett Jacob Hobbs is clearly dead. His legs are dangling and one shoe has fallen on a floor of leaves, but Abigail ignores it all. She stands next to Will and grabs the rope.

"Let me help."

They both pull. She pants and his breath is soundless as sunlight traces patterns across her bare back. Garrett Jacob Hobbs' neck cracks as his head hits the branch.

Will stands so close, she can smell death and sweat on him. He's always smelled of death, she realizes.

He encircles her waist and places his chin on top of her head. She leans into his chest, but there is still a layer of empty space between them. They stand like this, as if locked in prayer.

And then, he speaks into her ear, slowly, measuring his words:

"Do you want to go up, too?"

She nods.

That is why she left the tub. That is why she left the steam on the mirror.

She wants him, the man who smells like death, to bring her to the end. Maybe she belongs with her father in that place in hell reserved for people who eat hearts. But she will choose how she'll go.

Will smiles against her hair and she can feel the smile sink into her scalp, reaching places in her mind that are hidden and locked.

She smiles back.

When he places the rope around her neck, he checks the knot.

"Is it too tight?" he asks gently.

"No."

He holds her by the shoulders and looks at her. "Are you ready?"

Abigail could lie naked in the warm water again and maybe he could lie with her. They could lie there and she wouldn't have to go to the place for people who eat hearts. She wouldn't have to stay alive, either. They could live in water.

She is lifted from the ground, like a feather on the wings of a bird. Her body glistens in the sun and her eyelids burn the inside of her eyes.

Will pulls and pulls. She wishes she could help him. She knows he struggles. He struggles with something he has started but cannot bear to finish.

It gets easier, though.

Her bones break off from each other, traveling through her body, blocking out all exists. A warmth pools in her stomach.

Everything is bare and quiet, his breath still soundless. But she can hear his body as if he were inside her, because killing is an intimate experience. She should know.

It takes a physical presence to destroy another. That physical presence can overwhelm you. She feels a union in her core, a union they both relish.

He pierces her, the way the stag horns had pierced through others.

Abigail knows this is a pleasure superior to that which she sometimes felt when one of the young girls reached out a hand to stop her.

She breathes in for the last time, his smell of death.

* * *

 

Will's fingers travel down her calves, leaving marks on her skin. He caresses her knees. He gently raises one leg. He kisses the inside of her foot. His lips grow cold, but he does not let go. The other foot is dangling in the wind.

Abigail wakes up.


End file.
